instilling fear in their hearts

it's what we've come to expect of Josh Beckett in the post season. dominance. intimidation. nerves of steel. veins filled with ice water. command & excellence. all somehow kicked up a notch from the regular season performances. a look of fear in the opponent, no matter how hard they try to hide it. like a wild animal, the prey not wanting to let its fear show. but it always does.

when the calendar reads October & the Fenway seats are filled with fans in heavier coats, their breath puffing out in clouds, only the beer & the coursing adrenaline keeping them warm in the chilly Autumn night--Josh Beckett is the man you want to see taking the ball.

at least, that's how it used to be.

i haven't seen this Josh Beckett since last October. what i've seen is a shell of this Beckett making his starts. instead of a smoldering stare cast in at the batter, a hint of a sneer tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes on fire, now he appears deadened. gone are the swagger as he takes the field & again when he departs, replaced with all the foot-dragging of a man being led to execution. no more the furious glare at Tito should he dare to make the trip to the mound with the intention of collecting the ball, now met with resignation as Beckett walks back to the dugout to slump on the bench, dejected. i cannot even remember the last time i saw him take his anger out on the dugout equipment in a fit of self-directed rage or when he last jawed at the batter, challenging him, taunting him, laughing with his eyes if not his mouth or that i read of a curse-studded post-game press conference, littered with more beeps than actually words.

i miss him. i miss this Josh Beckett who pitched instead of nibbled, who oozed confidence instead of hanging his head, who challenged with defiance anyone who dared step foot in that batter's box & try to own his real estate at home plate. i miss the Josh Beckett who would have perhaps paid the Rays back for Balfour's thumping of JD Drew the night before, or at the very least sent a message with some chin music of his own. i keep reading article after article filled with Beckett insisting he feels fine, that there is no underlying medical cause for the last outing, but that doesn't give explanation for this entire season, and i would almost rather there be some injury than to believe that the problem lies in the more ambiguous realm of his mind. it seems to be deeper than just a sore oblique or a lingering elbow concern, because i watch our other wounded, as they fight through frustrating at-bats or are relegated to hanging on the dugout railing, yet still look invested in the games, cheering, leaping up to pound the back of a teammate, fists pumped in excitement. but in Beckett, i see nothing but disinterest, as if the light has simply gone out.

i could wring my hands anxiously after Saturday's defeat, but in fact, the Sox did the one thing i really wanted to see this past weekend: they left Tampa with at least one win. and they head back to Boston, claiming home field advantage, behind Jon Lester. and in a devastating loss--because no matter how much baseball remains to be played, those extra-inning losses are always somehow more painful to swallow--i saw life & spark in the Sox. i saw the offense battle back each time, in a place that has been nothing if not a thorn in their side since the middle of *last* season. i saw a team unwilling to go down without a fight, regardless of the time or the frustrations or the aching parts. i saw a defense that would not quit & relief pitching that picked the perfect time to show life. (Mike Timlin aside, and even then, i hold Tito partially responsible for putting him in & then leaving him there too long.) i saw something that gave me hope. this afternoon, i have every reason to believe they will once again deliver another mark in the win column. they make me *want* to believe.

my biggest fear is the possibility of a Game Six. i do not know this Josh Beckett. and now it is *our* hearts in which he strikes fear.